


Sisyphus

by dancey94



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:38:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5015773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancey94/pseuds/dancey94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not long after their fall Will finds himself unable to fall asleep</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sisyphus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ferris_Eris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferris_Eris/gifts), [abigail_frank](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail_frank/gifts).



> based on this [ amazing arts](http://arkarti.tumblr.com/post/129581973499/sleeping)

_"I remember tears streaming down your face when I said "I'll never let you go"_  
_When all those shadows almost killed your light_  
_I remember you said "Don't leave me here alone"_  
_But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight_

 _Just close your eyes, the sun is going down_  
_You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now_  
_Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound."_

Me vs Gravity - Safe and Sound

 

The nights are the worst, they always have been. There was a time when the nightmares were the ugliest things happening to Will. And then sleepwalking made him end up in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, at best in his briefs on his own rooftop.

He still had nightmares after he married Molly and at the beginning he was ashamed and scared he’d wake her up or that she’d be disgusted by his sweaty night terrors. She wasn’t.

Will remembers when, after he decided to hunt the Dragon, his nightmares returned and he’s worried he’ll never get rid of them, that they will haunt him even more persistently.

Now he’s lying in bed with the cover reaching to his waist; his chest is uncovered, excluding the bandage. He’s lying with his arms lined up with his body, his hands shaking slightly as he can’t force himself to relax.

In the darkness of the night, with only little light coming from the stars and the moon behind the clouds, it’s difficult to see anything. But Will doesn’t have to turn his head to feel Hannibal’s presence in bed next to him. The scent and body heat is enough. Will’s nostrils flare at the manly smell of not-so-fresh-anymore wounds and he finds it difficult to fall asleep. Again. How many days now? He’s lost count. And it’s nothing new to him, really, as he has a history of problems with sleeping.

He closes his eyes, listens to his own heartbeat and then can hear the slow continuous ticking of Hannibal’s heart join in. They’re a melody.

He wants to smile at the thought and at that moment, when he tries to curl up his lips, he can feel the stretch of the plaster on his right cheek. Instinctively, he wants to lift his hand to stroke his face, but he doesn’t. He only grimaces, his face twisting in slightly burning pain.

Will takes a deep breath, breaking the slow, steady rhythm. His wide open eyes stare at the ceiling above and his mind seems blank for a second. He wants to stop his brain, wants to stop thinking completely and simply exist. He wants to merge with the air around him; he feels like a substance rather than a whole person.

“Why are you not asleep, Will?” Graham hears the question suddenly but it doesn’t startle him. He doesn’t turn his head to look at Hannibal, either; he simply blinks. “Did you even try or were you lying like that for the last few hours?”

“I don’t know.” Will admits and it’s true. He lost track of time and he lost the sense of reality again; he no longer knows what is real and what is a dream, if he’s hallucinating again or if they really fell of the cliff. Is he even awake now?

Hannibal supports his head on his elbow and looks at Will who finally turns his head towards the man. They stare at each other in the dark but Will can always make out the red sparks in Hannibal’s eyes.

“Are you in pain?” Lecter asks and moves his hand to lie on Will’s chest, on the right breast where the Dragon stabbed him with a pocket knife, adding his mark to Will’s already impressive collection of scars.

“No. At least not in any physical pain, the one that I could make go away or forget it’s there.” Graham shifts his head and stares back at the ceiling.

“Will…” Hannibal moves his hand up until he can stroke Will’s cheek covered with a plaster.

“There is no peace for me.” Will states quietly, almost a whisper. He seems to be saying this absent-mindedly but he’s aware of what he means and why he’s saying this.

“Were you thinking of peace when we jumped off that cliff?” Lecter asks and gently moves aside some of Will’s hair from his forehead.

“Yes.” Comes a simple answer from Will’s dry lips. He doesn’t move, doesn’t turn away from the touch. It’s like he was paralysed, completely immobile. He surrenders to anything Hannibal wants to do with him now. “I hoped to stop it all, I hoped for peace for everyone involved.”

“But we survived.”

“We didn’t survive. We just can’t be killed.”

“Human bodies are mortal, only our poetry can live on through the ages and prove our existence.” Will groans softly at the words. He’s tired and confused. The palm on his cheek is warm and soothing, yet the touch makes him shiver. “Were you dreaming?” Lecter asks.

“Probably. I don’t remember much. There were shapes and shadows. The air pressure made the wounds feel like they were opening, tearing. I felt like I was about to lose my skin. Then I was weightless and I believe I lost consciousness.” Will speaks to the ceiling, still not entirely sure if this is real or if he’s dead and that’s the limbo he’s stuck in forever.

The hand moves from his cheek down to his arm and then chest. Hannibal cannot help but feel slightly jealous of the scars other people gave Will. It was supposed to be his honourable responsibility. The hand moves lowers still, pushing the cover down, until it reaches the smile on Will’s belly.

This is when Will’s eyes release two tears and he lifts his hand to wipe them away.

“You killed me… And now you saved me.” Will says, almost a tone of accusation. “You saved my life, not my soul.”

“The soul is just an abstract concept. I want you alive. I want your heart.”

“Rare? Medium rare?” Will asks, a hint of joke in his voice but there is an infinite knowledge that in some way he’s right – Lecter would most certainly enjoy eating his heart.

Hannibal chuckles softly, his smile is playful and naughty. The hand strokes Will’s belly, tickling, and then Hannibal leans over the scar and places a kiss on it, which makes Will tremble and close his eyes. A chain of light brushes of lips is what follows and Will’s breathing becomes shallow. This long, old scar is the ultimate bond between them. It marks their relationship and it marks Will as Hannibal’s in a way.

When Hannibal places one last kiss, he lifts his head and looks at Will, who opens his eyes and meets Lecter’s.

“You need to rest. Your organism needs sleep to be able to differentiate between what’s real and what’s not. Tomorrow, you’ll have a better clutch on reality.”

Will’s lips part as if to say something but his mind really won’t cooperate so he remains like this – eyes boring into Hannibal and lips parted, waiting. Lecter’s gaze fall from Will’s eyes to those dry and open mouth and he seems to be considering something intensively.

That moment on the cliff, after they killed the Dragon, when Will said what they experienced was beautiful; at that moment he was truly tempted to kiss him. They stood so close and their breath mixed in the air between them. Will surrendered completely and admitted he enjoyed their venture. Hannibal supposed that was the most appropriate moment to fell into a loving embrace and finally get a taste of familiar lips, covered in blood no less. Oh, what an experience that would have been if only he’d plucked the courage before Will did.

Now he’s leaning over Will again and there is a fair chance the man would give in to a kiss, only if for a split second. Hannibal moves closer, only inches separating them, and he stops suddenly. It’s too early. And Will is confused what’s real. Hannibal doesn’t want to kiss Will when they’re not sharing the experience equally, when the memory of it is not imprinted on their brains forever.

Lecter decides to offer a small peck on Will’s forehead, a form of foreplay before the real deal. Then he lies down next to Will, sets in his previous position and looks at Will. He extends his arm to pull up the cover so that it would reach Will’s collarbone, and then places his palm over the man’s chest.

“I won’t fall asleep until I feel your chest move up and down with your steady breathing caused by the most pleasant dreams. Sleep well, Will.”

Graham sighs and closes his eyes. The warm hand on his chest almost burns but then he feels like he’s falling into an extremely deep hole and his task for the night is to climb back up. That will be how he wakes up. Reaching the ending point and stumbling on something slippery so that he falls again. Almost like a Sisyphus.


End file.
